


Fuzzy Navel

by KyloTrashForever, Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkward Blow Jobs, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow A Raspberry, Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-08 08:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21233132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard/pseuds/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard
Summary: “Rey.” She teases the shape of his lower abdomen with little kitten licks that shouldn’t be arousing but just are because it’sher. “Rey, what are you—”“Pbtbtbtbtbt.”He jerks with the slight vibration of her suddenly blowing a wet stream of air into his skin, caught between feelings of shock and slight arousal because it isReyeven though no one has blown a raspberry on him since—well. Since ever, really.And Rey… He looks down with surprise now, her head tilting back to give him a silly grin. Rey looksimmenselypleased with herself.In which it’sRey’sbirthday, but she just wants to giveBena present.





	Fuzzy Navel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TourmalineGreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineGreen/gifts).

> ...and here we are. 
> 
> We wrote this silly thing in honor of the birthday of the elusive Trixie (who encouraged this silliness)—we may not know the exact day but we will still celebrate with drunken shenanigans! 😍 We hope you have the happiest of birthdays! (Whenever that may be. You were born. And it was on a day. 🥰)

* * *

Rey’s singing has trailed from exuberant to a whisper over the course of the ride home, but Ben knows that she isn’t asleep yet, because she isn’t snoring. Rey’s eyelashes brush her cheeks when Ben pulls into her carport, but he sees her lips curve into a soft smile once he’s parked the car and circled around to open her door.

“We’re home, sweetheart,” he tells her softly as he unclicks her seatbelt. 

“Mmmrf,” Rey groans. “Tired. Carry me?” 

Ben’s never really seen her drunk before, even though they’ve been together for months and living together for the past two weeks. But after Rey ate her way through at least half a Brooklyn-style pineapple, mushroom, and pepperoni pizza (just for her—nobody else would touch it), Rey started in on a round of _ birthday shots. _ Despite the solid cushion of gross pizza Rey must have underlying her digestive system, she’s got to be feeling the effects of the half-dozen cherry-brandy-and-whipped cream confections her friends poured down her throat.

So Ben is careful as he slides his hands under her knees and shoulders to lift her out of his car. This is the first time Rey’s celebrated her birthday. Not just the first with him—the first _ ever_, he thinks. He didn’t even _ know _ her birthday until he copied her driver’s license for the lease, and neither did her best friends. She has barely let him buy her any present, but if he can get her put safely to bed with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen for the morning, he’ll count the evening a success. 

Rey wraps her arms around his neck and burrows her face against his throat as he walks as smoothly as he can through their kitchen and living room to the master bedroom, where he dims the lights. Her breath against his jaw makes him shiver, but he deposits her gently on the foot of the bed without a bump. 

He thinks maybe she will roll over and drift off, that she’ll allow herself the victory of a good night’s rest after having battled the endless deluge of alcohol subjected on her by their friends—and for a second it seems as if she considers just that. She gives an exaggerated stretch, a little sleepy smile at her mouth that does something funny to his chest, blinking up at him happily. 

“I love you,” she slurs. “You’re so pretty.”

He grins down at her, reaching for the covers to try and pull them up and over her. “Am I?”

“_So _pretty,” she gushes. She reaches to run her fingers over his forearm, ending with a curl around his wrist as she pulls it to her face to nuzzle against his palm. “Your hands are so big.”

“Your hands are just small.”

“No. They’re like, _ so _big.”

She presses her lips to his fingers, and it isn’t really _ his _fault that his cock twitches—he’s chivalrous, not dead. “Okay, killer. Don’t you want to get to bed?”

She shakes her head vigorously, trying to rise from under the covers, an action she seems to immediately regret for the way it makes her sway a little. She finds her way to her knees, batting his hands away and tugging for his shirt instead. “Come here.”

He has to dip a knee on the bed for the force of how she pulls at his clothes. She’s always been so much stronger than she looks. “Rey, you need to—”

The words die on his tongue when she tucks her face into the curve of his shoulder, licking at his throat and humming happily as if he’s some sort of dessert. 

Her teeth find the bottom of his earlobe, and Ben freezes. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, but Rey suffers from no such doubts. Having secured his momentary cooperation, she gets a hold on the bottom of his t-shirt and has it up and over his head before he can properly protest. 

“You’re gonna get hot!” she chirps. “All clothes off. For things. Then sleeping.” 

And Ben can justify that to himself. He usually sleeps in his boxers. It’s convenient. For sleeping, sure, because Rey is territorially acquisitive in her sleep. Also for things. Things that usually happen at night, but shouldn’t happen this night, because Rey is drunk, and he is a gentleman. 

A gentleman, he chants to himself, eyes on the ceiling, as Rey wiggles his jeans down over his hips. 

“I like your tummy so much,” she says, dragging the tip of her finger from his navel down to the elastic band of his underwear. She hooks the finger into the top of the band, and he has to lunge towards her to keep her from pulling it down and over his traitor-cock, which would be more than happy to commence their typical evening activities. The mattress squeals as he plants his knees into it. 

Rey squeaks in glee when he lands partially on top of her, scrabbling for her hands. Did he say she has small hands? Even if they’re small, they seem to be everywhere. Running over his shoulders, patting his chest, tickling his stomach. He can’t get her pinned. 

“Look, it does little wrinkles when you’re like this,” she tells him in the tones of a woman who has made an important scientific discovery. “_ Looooook _.” She runs her fingers back and forth through the fold of skin where his stomach is curved to avoid pressing his cock directly into her face. 

He’s just thinking that perhaps he should be spending a little more time at the gym, managing to wrap his hands around one of her wrists and celebrating this tiny victory when he is rendered completely still as she leans up to press her lips below his navel. His mind is still very much on board with his plan of putting her to bed, but his entire body has devolved into more sordid ideas as it freezes from the touch of her mouth on his skin. 

“Fuzzy navel.” She laughs softly as if she’s made a clever joke, brushing her lips across the little trail of hair that clings from his belly button down jnto his jeans. He is just able to look down between them, a little sound escaping him when he feels her tongue trace the little crease in his belly much the same as her finger had done. “Tastes just as good.”

“Rey.” She teases the shape of his lower abdomen with little kitten licks that shouldn’t be arousing but just _ are _ because it’s _ her— _and his eyes flutter as his grip on her wrist slackens a bit. “Rey, what are you—”

“_Pbtbtbtbtbt.” _

He jerks with the slight vibration of her suddenly blowing a wet stream of air into his skin, caught between feelings of shock and still slight arousal because it is _ Rey _ even though no one has blown a raspberry on him since—well. Since _ ever, _really.

And Rey… He looks down with surprise now, her head tilting back to give him a silly grin. Rey looks _ immensely _pleased with herself. 

“Cute belly,” she mumbles. 

He’s still looming over her with his lips hanging slightly open, and Rey seems to sense even in her current state that this is the opportune moment to attack. She pushes up with all her weight, just managing to roll Ben to his back, her thighs sliding over his to straddle him. She looks triumphant. 

He’s still a little in shock (does alcohol somehow make her stronger?), still half-thinking about getting her off of him and under these covers to sleep—but he doesn’t fight it this time, when she gives him that sly grin, leaning over to press her lips to his skin again. 

“Verrrry cute belly,” she repeats, then sticks her tongue into his navel. He nearly bucks her off with the shock of it. She giggles in triumph and pats his stomach with both palms. “Good boy.” 

She seems to notice at that moment that she’s still fully dressed, because her next act is to start in on her buttons. Her face contorts in a twist of adorable consternation as her fingers twist against them. 

Ben throws a forearm over his face. “You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he tells her. “You’re not making this easy on me.” 

“You’re not easy!” Rey reassures him, leaning forward very earnestly. 

“I mean—”

Before Ben can open his eyes again, Rey’s blouse is tossed into the air and lands on his face. He fumbles with it, then stills as Rey slides further back down his body. The seam of her shorts is just right over—

“I think,” she says in a conspiratorial voice, “that you’re actually kinda hard.” 

Ben groans, both at the pun and because her patting hands have headed south to check—and he can’t deny it. 

He jerks his hands down to stop her, but that only has the effect of freezing her hands over his crotch. His cock pulses unhelpfully, and Rey squeezes in response. 

Ben wonders if he would be a bad person if he just lay back and didn’t _ stop _ her from doing whatever she is contemplating. After all, she’s still got her jean shorts on, and he doubts she has the coordination necessary to get those off in her condition. She’ll get tired of pawing him in a bit and pass out, and then he’ll be able to slip away to the shower to have a truly epic wank. 

He peers down at her as this plan unfolds in his brain only to meet her eyes, which are suddenly large and tragic.

“Why,” she asks, “don’t I get to give you a blowjob? No beej for meee?” 

Ben is glad that she probably won’t remember the noise he makes (it happens mostly in his throat, but emerges through his nose). 

“‘Mmm serious!” Rey whines. “‘Mmm good at blowjobs. Think. Think so. Real good.” 

His throat is a little dry. His brain screams _ it’s a trap—_but his dick screams _ yes, please _ while standing at attention like a tented Judas Iscariot. It’s not as if he’s _ opposed _ to the idea of her mouth on him, on the contrary, his cock is practically jumping with joy at the very _ idea—_but it’s something he’s carefully been able to circumvent thus far. 

He can’t even exactly pinpoint _ why— _ a little about the lack of reciprocity and the fact that he’s still not even entirely sure how he was fortunate to find Rey even _ wanting _ to, and _ a lot _ about the fact that anytime the opportunity arises he’s more than happy to forego it entirely to get inside her. It is, after all, practically a _ holy _experience—being inside her.

But Rey seems fairly determined now. 

“You don’t ever let me,” she huffs. “Lick you.” Her fingers flex around his cock, and the traitorous member jumps with glee at the contact. “You don’t like it? Don’t you want my mouth?”

“Rey, it isn’t”—she’s maneuvered enough slack to slowly stroke him over the fabric of his underwear, and his eyes roll back as his resolve falters—“that. I just”—her fingers just creep high enough to hook into the band of his underwear, pulling at it determinedly—“think that you should—”

”_Beeennn.” _ Holy _ fuck, _ he loses the ability to form coherent speech as she licks a palm to add it to the mix. “Let me _ doooo _ it.” She manages to get his cock out, her wet grip slipping around him as she gives him a tug that should be too rough but only robs him of the last of his surviving sense. “Wanna feel you in my mouth. Real good. Come _ oooon. _Let me just—”

“_Okay.” _

It’s practically a hiss—one he eases out between clenched teeth because she’s _ gripping _ the head of his cock, and it _ throbs _ with a need for more, and he’s not _ that _strong, damnit.

“_Fine_,” he huffs, chest heaving a little. “You can—_fuck.” _ She makes a little gleeful sound as she scoots back in his thighs, dipping her hand lower to play with his balls for a moment of burbled giggling at what he assumes is the feel of them. He bites at his lower lip. “You can do whatever you want, Rey.”

“You’re gonna _ love _ it.” She nods resolutely, sliding back a little further as her brow sets in determination. “Mmm real good. You’ll see.”

At this point he isn’t even sure which he is more of—horny or afraid. Fear’s definitely an intense feeling, especially when she pulls down on the waistband of his underwear again, only to get distracted by his cock and let the elastic snap against his balls. But Ben’s no coward, and neither is his dick. 

Rey cracks up, putting both hands over her mouth. Ben grits his teeth together, wondering if this is a giant warning sign that only disappointment lies down this path, but Rey takes both hands off her face and wraps them carefully around the base of him, and he finds that horny’s still here to help him through it. He carefully shimmies his underpants down and out of the danger zone, and Rey face-plants into the general area of his dick, whooping a battlecry.

Ben hasn’t had a lot of blowjobs in his life. Certainly not enough to set out what he likes or doesn’t like, or develop anything in the vein of a preference. He likes the way Rey gives a blowjob, he thinks, because she employs two absolutely vital methodologies. One: his dick, and two: her soft and pink little mouth. And she does it with gusto, which is flattering in a way he has never before perceived.

She loves his cock. She loves it so much she wants to put her mouth and tongue all over it. She loves it so much she makes a little purring sound in the back of her mouth as she runs the inside of her cheek along the head of his cock. She loves it so much that she sticks out her entire tongue to run it along the underside. She loves it so much that—

“_Pbtbtbtbtbt.” _

There’s a wet vibration against the head of him, followed by a sharp giggle, and his brain devolves into white noise for a few seconds because did she just—?

“_Pbtbtbtbtbt.” _

He jolts as she again blows against the head of his dick, her hand wrapped firmly around the base to hold him still as she continues to chirp out little sounds of glee at her own indulgence. She continues to dribble her lips against him, seeming to find it the funniest thing in the world, and the worst part of it all is—it doesn’t feel… terrible? 

In fact, after the last burst of air he’s having to grip the sheets below him because she follows it with a heavy swipe of her tongue as her interest shifts from her cherry-flavored fellatio to some mapping of the head of his cock with her tongue. She traces the tip just under his glans, giving a little happy hum as if she’s perfectly content to torture him like this for the rest of the night. 

“Pretty, pretty, dick,” she babbles, pressing a soft kiss just over the slit. “Just like Ben.”

She flicks her tongue against him, and he assumes she thinks she’s being playful—but Ben is oddly ready to burst at the seams. “Rey, you don’t—”

“I can fit the whole thing you know,” she tells him seriously, gripping him a little tighter as a squeak of a sound tears out of him. “All of it.”

He thinks that for the rest of his life he might be self-reflecting on why he’s so turned on by this objectively odd situation—but it doesn't change the way he moans when she sets out to prove herself right. 

They haven’t _ talked _ about this, and he doesn’t know what she wants him to do about the fact that he’s about to blow like a champagne cork, but when he stammers out a warning, all she does is tuck her hair behind her ears and dip down further, the back of her throat closing around the head of his cock. He can’t pull away without risking her teeth, so he just closes his eyes and clenches the sheets as his orgasm rips along his spine.

She doesn’t move as his dick pulses in her throat, for which he is profoundly grateful. He feels like he’s just run wind-sprints, and his hands are so tightly wound in the bed linens that they’re starting to cramp. But his heart, oddly enough, feels light enough to float out from his chest. Rey finally lifts her head a few inches, only to wipe her wet face dramatically across his stomach. She blows one final, definitive raspberry just below his navel.

“Tol’ you. I’m the best,” she declares to him in tones of deep satisfaction. Then Rey pats his hand, crawls a few inches north on the bed, burrows under his armpit, and falls instantly and deeply asleep, her snores smelling of cherry brandy and echoing through the bedroom.

* * *

When Ben wakes up the next morning, the sun is slanting down through the blinds at an angle that tells him it is nearly lunchtime. Rey is constitutionally incapable of either sleeping in or suffering from a hangover, and Ben can hear her washing her face in the bathroom. He rolls over, trying to recollect the previous evening. His underwear are still hanging off of one ankle. Oh, Jesus. It wasn’t a pizza dream.

“Are you up now? I had a great birthday, sweetie,” Rey calls from the bathroom. Ben hears the water shut off, and then a second later, Rey emerges, her hair pulled up into a bun atop her head. She’s wearing his shirt from the previous night—and little else. She pats her hands dry with a bathtowel and tosses it in the hamper by the bed. 

Ben swallows hard, too nervous to speak as Rey approaches the bed and takes a seat next to him. She pets his bare chest absentmindedly. 

“Did you have a good time?” 

Ben swallows, nodding. It’s the truth. She smiles widely at him, and his heart eases up a bit.

Then she leans over him. “But Ben… I was hoping you could explain… Why do I have cum in my hair?”

Ben’s lower lip drops in horror. Oh god, she can’t remember any of it. Oh god, he’s in such deep trouble.

Rey leans further over him. Her smile stretches wider, becoming positively _ villainous_, and then, before he can react—

“_Pbtbtbtbtbt.” _

Right on his belly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Find us on our Twitters! [KyloTrashForever ](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo) | [Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard](https://twitter.com/YTCShepard)


End file.
